


Human Christmas Traditions

by SargentMom573



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Castiel, Christmas Fluff, M/M, The Twelve Days of Christmas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-13
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-06 15:45:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 2,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5422793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SargentMom573/pseuds/SargentMom573
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas decides to woo Dean with an old-fashioned human Christmas tradition. Dean is as clueless as ever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Twelve Drummers Drumming

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Supernatural fanfiction writers Facebook group It's Funnier in Enochian song prompt: 12 Days of Christmas.

“Fuck!”

Dean jumped out of bed, his gun in his hand, looking for whoever was making that unearthly racket.

Turned out to be drummers. 

“Cas, get your feathery ass over here. Now!”

A flutter of feathers and Cas was standing between Dean’s gun and the twelve drummers.

“Hello, Dean.”

“What the fuck is this?” Dean waved his gun towards the drummers who were still making an awful ruckus.

Cas looked at Dean like he was an idiot. “Twelve drummers drumming, Dean.”

“Can you…I don’t know. Make them stop?”

A muscle in Cas’ jaw twitched and then silence, as the drummers were mojoed out of his room.

Dean nodded, clicked the safety back on and slid his revolver under his pillow once again.

“What was that all about?” He turned back towards Cas suddenly aware of the fact that he was only dressed in his undershorts.

Cas got his I-hate-explaining-things-to-humans face on and simply said, “Today is the twelfth day of Christmas,” before he too disappeared from Dean’s bedroom.


	2. Eleven Pipers Piping

Dean got out of bed and made his way to his bathroom. The moment he opened the door, the cacophony started up. 

“Cas!”

“Hello, Dean.”

“Why do I have … eleven guys playing those flute things in my bathroom?” 

Dean tried to keep the exasperation out of his voice but was unsuccessful if he was reading Cas’ expression correctly. 

“Pipes.”

“Yeah, whatever. Why are they here?”

“It’s the eleventh day of Christmas, Dean,” Cas said before both he and the guys playing the pipes disappeared. 


	3. Ten Lords a-Leaping

Dean got out of his bed and did his morning business without any disturbances.

“Thank you, Cas,” he murmured as he walked into the kitchen.

Apparently, he’d spoken too soon because the kitchen was overrun with dudes in white wigs.

Ten dudes in white wigs jumping about the kitchen.

Keeping him from his morning coffee. 

“Cas!” Dean might have bellowed.

The dudes disappeared while he distinctly heard Cas say, “The tenth day.” 


	4. Nine Ladies Dancing

Dean got to his morning coffee without any disturbances and carefully made his way to the library. The moment he stepped into it the ladies popped into existence.

Ladies in medieval looking costumes, dancing.

“That’s more like it!”

Sam looked up from his laptop with bitchface #47 firmly fixed in place. He opened his mouth to say something but instead shut it again when one of the ladies turned to him and extended her hand, inviting him to dance. 

Before Sam could make any excuses, the ladies vanished. 

“Thanks, Cas.” 

“What the hell, Dean?”

“That’s just Cas’ stuff.”

“What?”

“Dude, there were, like, drummers the first day. In my bedroom.”

“Drummers?”

“Yeah. Then the next morning there were guys playing those pipe things.”

“Pipers?”

“Yeah.”

“Then?”

“Then there were some dudes in white wigs jumping in the kitchen.”

“How many?”

“What?”

“How many dudes in wigs were jumping in the kitchen?”

“Uh, ten?”

Sam smirked. “And today’s gifts were nine ladies dancing?”

“I guess,” Dean shrugged.

Sam gave one of his rare, full-bodied laughs. Dean didn’t know what was going on with Cas but he was glad it was making Sammy happy. 


	5. Eight Maids-a-milking

Today had been quiet. Not that Dean was complaining.

Not at all. 

When they popped into existence in the dairy isle in the grocery store, he did not get a goofy smile on his face. 

Not at all.

There were eight of them. Eight girls wearing white old-fashioned dresses and white caps on their heads. Milking eight cows. 

“Thank you, Cas.”

His gratefulness must have come through his tone because he heard a quiet, “You are welcome, Dean.”

And then the girls popped out again.

Dean, sensing a pattern, didn’t want to spoil it with research. Sam probably already had researched it to death. Dean was enjoying the surprises and didn’t want to know what was on tap for the next day. 

Dean was sure there was going to be something the next day. Cas started with twelve drummers, followed by eleven pipers, followed by ten jumping guys, who had in turn been followed by nine dancing ladies. And today had been the eight girls in the dairy isle.

Cas still had seven days to go. Dean was beginning to look forward to them.


	6. Seven Swans-a-swimming

“Son of a bitch!”

So, maybe, Dean spoke too soon. What else was new?

When the sound of the trumpet went off near his head, Dean jerked out of his hot bath induced stupor to find seven swans in the large Men of Letters bathtub. 

“Cas.” Dean didn’t whine. “I just wanted a quiet moment to myself. Is that too much to ask?”

“I am sorry, Dean.” And the swans disappeared leaving Dean to his bath.

Soaking in a bath after a particularly physical day ganking monsters wasn’t girlie. Not at all.

Sometimes a man needed to soak sore muscles. 

The Men of Letters bunker had a bathtub big enough to accommodate six or seven large men. Dean tried not to think about it. Much.

If a smile graced his face while he was relaxing in his bath, then that was between him and the empty bathroom. 


	7. Six Geese-a-laying

“No fucking way!”

Dean had just opened the door to the Impala when the flutter of wings and loud honking heralded the arrival of six geese. 

Sam just laughed at him over the top of the car. 

“Please, Cas, not in Baby.” Dean didn’t care if he came across as pleading. There was a reason for his no-animals-in-Baby rule.

“I am sorry, Dean.” 

The geese left behind eggs in the backseat. Sam, still laughing, carefully picked them out, cradled them in his gigantor hands and took them to the bunker’s kitchen.


	8. Five Golden Rings

The sudden constriction at the base of his cock nearly got Dean killed. Thankfully, Sam had his back.

“What the hell, dude?” Sam shouted at Dean. 

In the middle of a fight with a bunch of vampires was a bad time for Dean to be distracted.

Dean did his best to get his head back into the game before he was killed, or worse, turned. 

It didn’t help his temper any when the vampire across from him started laughing his fool head off. 

Right. Dean heaved his machete at the stupid vampire, cleaving his head from his body.

A few more minutes later all the vampires lay beheaded.

Sam stalked closer to Dean while Dean tried to get his breath back.

“Dude, are you wearing arm bands?”

Dean was concentrating on trying not to let his sudden erection show.

“What?”

“Dude, you are totally wearing arm bands and …anklets?” Sam began to laugh at the golden chains around Dean’s booted ankles.

“Cas!”

Afraid that Cas would make the gold arm bands and anklets, and he supposed gold cock ring, disappear, Dean spoke quickly, “Can you send them to my duffel bag, please? I’d like to keep them.”

“Yes, Dean.” Came the pleased reply. 

Sam just smirked. “Whipped.”


	9. Four Calling Birds

“Dean is loyal.”

“Dean is brave.”

“Dean is smart.”

“Dean is beautiful.”

“Fuck my life!” Dean groaned as quietly as he could. 

Werewolves had exceptional hearing. There was no way they were going to be surprised by Sam and him now.

Snarls surrounded them as the four birds encircled Dean’s head like something from an old time cartoon. 

“Thank you so much, Cas!” Dean hoped his tone gave the angel the correct idea.

“Oops.” Came the whisper on the wind. 

The birds disappeared just as the werewolves pounced and there was no time to think of anything else except how to kill some pissed off werewolves. 

Sam laughed all the way home. 

Dean vacillated between being embarrassed and being pleased. 


	10. Three French Hens

Dean was watching Terminator. 

What? 

Terminator was a manly man’s movie. 

So what if he almost never fast forwarded through the romantic parts? No one had to know they were his favorite parts of the movie.

Dean sighed as on screen Kyle Reese told Sarah Connor how he’d loved her since the moment her son John gave him her picture.

Suddenly Dean had his arms full of …chickens? Another one of Cas’ gifts. 

Though not as dangerous as the last two, they were dangerous in a different way.

They snuggled into him like little kids. All of a sudden he had a longing for something bigger, someone more human-like, maybe a certain…Nah. 

Manly men didn’t cuddle. Dean pushed away the chickens and skipped the lovemaking scene to the final fight scene. 


	11. Two Turtle Doves

Dean came to a sudden stop when he noticed the two doves on his bed.

They were just twining their necks around each other and cooing. The beautiful sight brought tears to this eyes. 

Damn! What was Cas playing at here? 

He hoped Cas was serious and not just using him to experiment. He had so many hopes where that angel was concerned.

He just wished he had the courage to talk to him about them. 

The doves gave one last chorus of coos that sounded a lot like “I love you” before they vanished. 


	12. A Partridge in a Pear tree

Dean jerked awake and scanned the room while he gripped the gun tight.

There was a tree in his room. An honest to God tree. In his room. 

Dean slowly released the gun, then slid out of bed. 

And was that fruit? He raised his arm to grab the fruit when he heard the sound of wings. 

He peered closer and saw some kind of bird stuck in the tree. He cupped his hands gently around the body of the bird and slowly removed it from the tree. He put it on the floor and watched as it waddled off towards his door.

“Dude, Cas, is this another one of yours?”

In reply, both the tree and the bird disappeared leaving behind a huge basket full of pears. 

Dean tucked the basket under his left arm and walked down to the kitchen munching on a crunchy pear. 

This had to be Cas’ last gift. He was sad the craziness had ended. 


	13. Christmas Eve

“Cas, would you come to the bunker, please?”

He’d just heard the last chorus of the song _The Twelve Days of Christmas_ and it just now clicked into place, what had made Sam laugh the day the dancing ladies showed up. 

“Hello, Dean.”

_…my true love gave to me…_

“Dude. Did you just….?” Nah, no way did Cas spend the last twelve days telling him that he loved him. Cas wouldn’t do that. 

Angels didn’t have feelings. Cas didn’t have feelings. So, he couldn’t have been telling him that he loved him by giving him gifts mentioned in a human Christmas song. Could he?

“Um, thank you for all the … gifts.”

“You are welcome, Dean. Did you know that partridge are ground-dwelling birds? The song writer was mistaken. Partridge don’t live in pear trees, they live on the ground.”

“Wha…? Maybe he just wanted to find something rare. A partridge living in a pear tree would be rare, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes, I suppose it would be.” Cas got his thoughtful face on as he thought about what Dean had said. 

Dean, meanwhile, was at a loss of how to proceed. Sometimes being emotionally constipated, as Sam liked to say, was a pain. Not that he was emotionally constipated. He had emotions. He just didn’t want his life to resemble a rom-com.

“Dude, I’m sorry. I didn’t get you any Christmas gifts.”

Cas turned to look at Dean again, doing his staring thing again, like he was looking deep into his soul, making Dean squirm on the inside. “You have already given me so many things. Just last month –"

“Dude, that wasn’t a gift. You needed some help and I helped you out. That’s all. You’re family now. I’d do the same for Sam.”

Okay. Not where he wanted this conversation to go. Sam would laugh his fool head off if he could see the mess Dean was making of this.

“Why do humans celebrate the birth of the Son of Man in the winter? He was born in the spring!” 

Huh. Sounded like Cas had opinions about Christmas. It would be hilarious…Not the time, Winchester.

“Huh. I don’t know. Were you there?”

“Yes.” Cas’ answer was short and he got a look on his face like he was contemplating smiting the ones who’d corrupted the birthday of the Son of Man.

Okay. Time to change the subject. 

“Thank you for the gifts, Cas.”

Cas gave him the I’m-so-confused-by-humans look.

Right. He’d already said that. Now to say the rest. 

“Dude, you didn’t have to.”

“I thought you liked them.” Still with the I’m-so-confused-by-humans look.

“Yes. Yes, I did.”

The I-don’t-understand look. 

Well, there was no other way to do this. 

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why did you give me Christmas gifts? Because I have to tell you, other than my brother, and Bobby, when he was alive, no one’s given me Christmas gifts for years. Let alone so many.”

The I-think-I-understand-now look. 

“You don’t believe you deserve so many gifts?”

“No, no.” How did this clueless-about-humans angel hit the nail on the head so soon?

“Regardless of what you believe, I wanted to give you the gifts and I could, so I did.” Cas was almost stern.

Alright then. 

“Besides, isn’t it human tradition to give gifts during Christmas?”

“Yes, it is.” Dean was having a hard time asking for what he wanted to know. “Dude, you probably didn’t understand the song.”

Cas stared at him so long, Dean was sure he was physically squirming. “Do you mean the part of the song where it says “my true love gave to me”?"

God, why was Cas so smart? Some days Dean loved how smart Cas was. Today was not such a day. He rubbed his palm across his neck, sure it was on fire. 

“Nah.” He ducked his head and broke eye contact, while shuffling in place. Could he get any more like a teenager?

“Dean,” Cas got into his personal space like he belonged there. “I did understand the song.”

“What?” Dean looked up and realized that Cas was closer than usual. 

“I do love you, Dean.” Cas said as he cupped his palm around Dean’s jaw. “I’ve loved you since I saw your soul in Hell. And I will always love you.”

“Dude, no.” Self-loathing was nothing new to Dean but it just seemed to consume him at this time. He’d broken an angel. He’d broken the best angel of them all. 

“My angel programming, if you will, includes love. We are programmed to love God. We are programmed to love His Creation. We are programmed to love Men.”

“No, no, no.” Dean shook his head in adamant denial of what he was hearing. 

“Why, then, is it so hard to believe that I would love you?”

“Because…” I’m not worthy. I don’t deserve… 

“Because you don’t believe that you deserve it?” Damn it. He wanted it to be true so badly he didn’t care if he deserved it or not.

He wanted to be loved. He wanted Cas to love him. 

“Dean.” Cas used a finger to raise his head so he could look him in the eyes. Sternly he admonished, “Regardless of what you believe, I love you, and I can, so I will.”

Suddenly Dean couldn’t hold back any longer and sagged against Cas, letting him catch all his weight. He wrapped his arms around Cas’ waist as the angel put his arms around Dean’s shoulders. 

Dean snuggled into Cas’ shoulder, his head tucked under the angel’s chin. 

“I love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My husband's family shares gifts on Christmas Eve, so that is why the last chapter is called Christmas Eve and not Christmas Day.


End file.
